


Junctures

by ethiobird



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, at least up until 3x07 i haven't decided if it will be post-scene-we-don't-speak-of, depends on how the writers handle the fallout and the other characters' reactions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6291250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethiobird/pseuds/ethiobird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the moments they realize that the Sky Princess and Heda Leksa are both a liability and solace to each others' hearts, seeing that unprecedented way in which they deeply understand one another. These are their thoughts when they realize they have been given the privilege of witnessing the result of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.</p><p>or</p><p>Clarke Griffin and Commander Lexa are soulmates and chronicling each time someone realizes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anya

You drag Klark by the bindings on her wrist, feet light in the art of swift and quiet movement; a skill you’ve acquired, practiced, and perfected over a lifetime as a warrior. Klark is like a stumbling child, all noisy footfalls, broken branches, and labored breathing. You feel shame burn, angry, in the back of your throat at the thought that this clumsy girl was the downfall of three hundred of your gonas. Part of you wishes to kill her now and prevent the embarrassment of presenting Heda with a bumbling fool as the reason for so many deaths.

She grates on you.

Her weapons of choice are words and persuasion. You have spent enough time around her to know that Klark at least possesses the awareness to understand that she is physically inept, and more than likely incapable of holding her own in battle for more than a few moments. This, at least, you respect about her. However, this means she spends the _entirety_ of her trek as your captive speaking in never-ending monologues in an effort to convince you to let her go.

In the back of your mind, you know that she speaks truth, and that the larger concern for you both should be the Maunon. The enemy of our enemy is our friend. _But,_ that is for Heda to rule and determine. You will respect Heda’s right to judgment.

And, knowing Heda, who you remember, proudly, is responsible for a long-lasting peace, she will grant Klark audience and make a decision that is best for the Twelve Clans. Klark will no doubt use her words and persuasion in an attempt to influence her, thinking that when Heda chooses to pursue an alliance, which she will, it will have been entirely because of her skills as a manipulator. You will know this not to be the case. Although Klark's words will be very effective in displaying an alliance, and her people, in a favorable light, and you’ve started to speculate that this ability will endear Klark to the Leksa that you helped raise and train, you know that Heda has never allowed herself to be ruled by her emotions.

You were there for Leksa’s tumbling fall for Kostia _,_ and you know that there are few choices more difficult than showing mercy and offering a truce to the woman responsible for torturing and beheading your lover. You think of Kostia in relation to Klark because in all honesty, the two have a great deal of common traits. They both share a stubbornness and an internal strength, and a remarkable ability to achieve their desires by means of persuasion. Granted, it is a time of war, and Kostia pouting a lower lip, trying to convince her lover to abandon training in order to spend time with her (it often worked) comes from different needs than Klark incessantly babbling in an attempt to get herself out of an unfavorable situation, but the practice is the same.

There will be an alliance. The thought is difficult for you to swallow, because it seems that Skaikru as a whole, much like Klark, is childlike. But Skaikru and Klark at least possess the resourcefulness and wit to survive when backed into a corner. The thought, and remembrance of the three hundred warriors dead at their hands re-ignites your anger, and you tug at Klark's bindings again roughly, making her stumble.

At some point, Klark insists you stop so she can examine the wound you inflicted upon yourself to remove the device the Maunon placed in your arm, and your only thought as she stabs your neck with their poisoned dart while your guard is down is that you may have severely underestimated her.

“I can find my way home from here.” She says, and the realization of your underestimation grows. She had planned her attack for hours, but held off only because she does not know Trikru land as you do. Your fading thought as you lose consciousness is that maybe Klark kom Skaikru is too dangerous to be left alive to potentially be underestimated by Heda.

It’s also the same thought that wakes you as you stir from consciousness.

Your body is weak, and maybe it would have been wiser to feign unconsciousness until you were strong enough to exhibit your full strength in order to take down Klark, but you know she is inexperienced as a warrior and more than likely will prove to be little threat as an opponent.

This is the second time you underestimate her.

She tries to stop you with her words, and quickly realizes it will be futile, so she begins to swing at you, broad and clumsy, with a heavy, charred branch. Even in your still foggy mental and physical state, it is little effort to disarm her. She throws the ashes of the dead in an effort to distract and repulse you, and you smirk in almost-admiration for her ruthlessness.

“I don’t want to kill you, Anya.” She pleads one last time, holding a newfound blade.

“Then you’re the one that’s going to die.”

Disarming her, again, is done easily. You do have to admire her resilience as you pin her down, ready to deliver a finishing blow.

And still, you underestimate her. She exploits a weakness by digging her nails into a fresh wound, meeting a nearby charred skull with yours, and reversing your positions so that you are now pinned down, receiving blow after blow to the face. The poison still in your body proves to disadvantage you now, and you find yourself unable to retaliate. 

Klark pulls up the knife, determination faltering in her eyes, before stabbing the knife into the ground next to your head.

“You fought well.” You smile somewhat bitterly.

She grates on you, but now you know you also respect her.

When she ties your wrists together once more, you are still weakened and accept your captivity at her hands. She has discovered that greater numbers of her people have come from the sky, and she is taking you to them as a prisoner. You allow yourself to near their gates, illuminated blue in unnatural light, in part to scout out Skaikru’s newest camp, with the intention of trying to break yourself free despite your weakened state before she can bring you in, except you aren’t given the chance.

Because she lets you go herself. 

“I’m not weak.” She says with conviction, and you now know her words to be truth. “But I’m not like you.” And you know this is true as well. Klark continues to speak, trying to get you see the advantages of forming an alliance, and you now see that this is not out of self-preservation, but out of duty toward her people. You know at least one other person who makes choices in this manner.

“I know my people will help. The question is, will yours?”

You could reject her proposal; your hands are free, and it would only take an elbow to the side of her head to silence her and make your way back to your people. Your anger and emotions tell you to do this, but you know Heda would have you do differently. You already know the answer.

“The Commander was my second.” You sigh in resignation. “I can get an audience.”

You share a respectful grip of arms before turning back, until a white-hot pain through your back and out your chest propels your body forward, slamming you to the ground. You hear the shot of a gun and know it’s over.

Skaikru is dangerous, and they attack others out of fear. Klark has proven herself to be level-headed, and you can only pray as you feel your heart spasming, failing to function, that her influence will preside over her people.

You know that Leksa will see in her what you’ve seen, and you only hope she doesn’t underestimate Klark as you have. You even know that your death at Skaikru’s hands won’t influence the decision she makes, and you know whatever decision it is will be the one best for the rest of your people.

“Ai gonplei ste odon _._ ” You gasp with one of your few remaining breaths, as you allow your memories and life to wash over you. One little thought you have as your vision fades is a small disappointment that you won’t get to witness the meeting of the frantic, strong, clever woman above you who’s trying desperately to keep you alive despite her own bullet wound, and Leksa, who is so similar to her in ways you’re sure you would have yet to have discovered were you not about to die.

It truly would have been a sight to behold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anya was an important one to me, because I really do think she would have seen the potential in the way these two would eventually interact. Headcanon that Costia was a sly manipulator like Clarke, but in a cute, less scary, less based in necessity kind of way.
> 
> Up next: Heda herself, because that girl knew right away.


	2. Lexa

You are informed of the arrival of Klark kom Skaikru on the same morning that you had demanded their people flee your lands. 

Since their arrival, Skaikru has proven to have, despite often well-intentioned members like Markos, an attitude that is very much childlike and entitled. Your patience has begun to wear thin, and you suspect even now that Klark arrives with the message that they have no intention of leaving Trikru territory. They are a formidable force, with technology far beyond yours, so you have no desire to engage in war with them unless absolutely necessary. Many lives would be lost. The balancing act of making your own people believe these kinds of decisions are not rooted in cowardice has long been a challenge in your time as Heda.

You accomplish this by several means. Primarily, through intimidation. Ever since you were called to lead, and especially since Kostia, you have developed and perfected a stony, unreadable exterior, an unwavering and unnerving stare, and a detached, monotonous tone.

Suffice to say, you do not lead a life flourishing with human connection. To be Heda is to be alone.

Light floods the tent as the flap is drawn, allowing Klark to enter. You train your eyes downward as she approaches, adopting a posture of carefully perfected self-assured nonchalance.

“You’re the one who burned three hundred of my warriors alive.” You drawl before snapping your gaze up to meet hers.

Klark is young, likely just younger than yourself, with yellow hair, days-old wounds and bruises framing her sturdy features.

“You’re the one who sent them there to kill us.” She responds, unwavering, demanding both respect and sympathy. This surprises you, but it doesn’t surprise you as much as the same unwavering ability she has to match your cold gaze. Few people have ever possessed this ability. This instantly marks her as someone not to be underestimated.

As predicted, Klark has requested audience with you in order to bargain for the chance to stay in your territory. Were the messenger not Klark _,_ and someone much less immediately intriguing, you might’ve nodded for Gostos to execute her on the spot. Indra grows impatient at your side as you allow Klark to continue.

As you listen, you begin to see both a fierceness and a softness to her eyes. Her words are carefully chosen and well-placed. It would be foolish not to follow through on the possibility of reclaiming the hundreds of Triku stolen by the ripa disease, and Klark knows this.

Your hesitancy to investigate further is all but vanquished at her mention of Onya and the presentation of her braid. Your heart sinks at the knowledge that she is, in fact, dead, however now at least you know for sure that it wasn’t at Klark’s hand with the other three hundred warriors.

You ignore an enraged Indra as you step down to meet Klark’s gaze. In the privacy of your mind, you allow yourself to feel allured by her for a short moment, because she _is_ beautiful. You allow the fleeting thought that were you a different person who led a different kind of life, and were these not the circumstances of your first meeting, you probably would have sought a connection with her. She is just shorter than you, and the closer you get, the more a heavier, far more troublesome thought creeps into your mind, like a poison: strong eyes blue like the sky instead of brown like earth, an unwavering but still compassionate gaze, the same ability to persuade with words, the wisdom to see when she can use an emotional appeal to her advantage.

She reminds you of Kostia _._

You try to banish the dangerous thought, and yet still you begin to watch her more closely.

* * *

Skaikru are ruled by their emotions, and still childish. They beg and plead for a guilty man’s life to be spared, and even go so far as to refuse Trikru’s right to justice against him, at the risk of all of their peoples’ lives.

You worry that these patterns of entitlement will cause unnecessary Trikru deaths in the event of an alliance. Though the man in question did turn himself over, which was an admirable and noble act for the sake of his people, Skaikru’s leaders still had intended to go to war for his sake. A truce with people that have such thoughtless leaders may yet be unwise.

When Klark approaches, bleeding at the tip of Indra’s spear, you ready yourself for an onslaught of desperate persuasion.

You are not disappointed. She tries to twist what would be an act of blind forgiveness into a display of power. Clearly she is desperately grasping; she knows that there is little to truly justify pardoning what the man has done.

It also becomes clear, as tears begin to stream down her face and she offers her life in his stead, that there is an attachment here that is beyond friendship. Her desperation becomes emotional as she confesses, guilty, that what he did he had done for her. You see the guilt on her face. Suddenly you understand.

When all is said and done, the man’s death can be traced to one cause: loving Klark _._

“Then he dies for you.”

Like Kostia died for loving Leksa.

You watch as solemn acceptance spreads across her features. You can admire the wisdom she possesses to understand that there is nothing she can do to save him without great cost, something even the self-professed leaders of Skaikru were unable to understand.

“Can I say goodbye?” She whispers, her last plea.

Kostia saturates your thoughts after she says this, and compassion fills you. You know all too well the pain of losing a lover to death without closure; it’s a pain you wouldn’t wish even on your enemies. So you nod, allowing her to step toward him despite angry whisperings from nearby Trikru _._ You ignore them.

Klark shares a kiss and desperate whispers of affection with the man, and you have to look away for a moment.

When she pulls away you see the blade in her blood-soaked hand, his shirt darkened, spreading from where his heart was pierced.

Your eyes widen and mouth gapes as shock envelops you.

In part because you realize that the knife may have been meant for you, and had Klark tried to she probably could have persuaded you to allow her close enough to use it effectively, yet she didn’t.

In part because you suddenly feel the pain of Kostia’s death over again as well as anger that a guilty man was spared the drawn-out affair that she was victim to and never deserved.

But more than anything because what you just witnessed from Klark kom Skaikru was such an act of self-destructive compassion, the kindest act she could have done for him without risking war and bloodshed, and all she had to do was destroy herself. You know this because you’ve seen this kind of sacrifice in one other person only.

It is no longer Kostia that you see in this woman.

It is Leksa.

* * *

It isn’t until you hand Klark the torch, granting her that last closure but also cementing her status in front of both Trikru and Skaikru as the figure of importance, and she recites your peoples’ death blessing that you realize with a quickening heartbeat that your regard for her extends into a dangerous territory. 

You already knew you found her beautiful. The purely physical attraction was almost immediate. You already knew you respected her. You even already knew you wanted to get the chance to know her. But the sudden understanding that leaves you shaken is that now you’ve realized that you ache for _her_ to know _you_ as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then she realized she was totally fucked.
> 
> Up next, uncle Gustus. I firmly believe he was the first one to see the potential shitshow of Clexa.


End file.
